Desire in the Desert

Mark 1:9-15

Way back in the 4th century, small groups of Christians began migrating from the urban centers of the Roman Empire into the deserts of Egypt. They were motivated by an almost unthinkable event. In the year 380, the Emperor Theodosius made Christianity the official religion of Rome.

Of course, many Christians were happy to no longer have to practice their faith underground and risk violent persecution; but others were convinced that the Church would be corrupted by this new, official status. These Christians took Jesus at his word; they didn’t see how God’s kingdom could co-exist with a worldy empire. They also looked down on the relaxed attitudes of Bishops who suddenly received thousands of new “converts,” and they looked down on the converts themselves, who would never know what it was like to risk their lives for their faith. So these diehard disciples voted with their feet, set out for the Egyptian wilderness and formed small communities in which to live out their faith more purely. By doing this they hoped to avoid the hypocrisy of this unlikely marriage between the followers of Christ and the Empire that crucified him.

These desert outposts were essentially the first monasteries, and these early monks practiced round the clock prayer and fasting, worship and study of Scripture. Isolated from the influence of the outside world, they were free to pursue their faith without distraction. But what they discovered, believe it or not, was that it was just as difficult to avoid sin in the desert as it was in the city. They had simply carried their bad habits and impulses with them, and the stillness and silence of their surroundings often made these unwanted thoughts and desires more present and obvious.

The writings of these so-called Desert Fathers and Mothers are filled with descriptions of the conflict that raged within their hearts. They spoke in particular of something they called the “Noonday Devil”—a phrase you might be familiar with—which is a kind of spiritual paralysis. It sneaks up on a person and drains first their enthusiasm, then their confidence, and finally, their faith. Now that said, I don’t know if any of this would have surprised the Desert Fathers and Mothers, since they would have been familiar with Mark’s gospel, and especially his account of Jesus’ own trials in the desert from our reading this morning. 

After describing Jesus’ dramatic baptism in the Jordan river, and the revelation of his divine identity, Mark tells us that Jesus fled into the wilderness—the Greek word is erēmos and it also means “desert.” And who is waiting for Jesus there? None other than Satan himself, the great villain of the Hebrew Scriptures, come to test Jesus as he tested Jesus’ ancestors. And although Mark doesn’t give details, we can imagine what Satan might’ve had to say to Jesus—mostly because we have Matthew and Luke’s longer versions of the story, where we’re told that Jesus is tempted by the offer of incredible power, power to rule over the world alongside Satan. And Matthew and Luke both tell us that it’s Jesus’ deep faith in God and knowledge of Scripture that enable him to see through Satan’s lies and resist his temptations.

But Mark also mentions that Jesus did battle with the wild beasts. Who or what could they be? And what kind of defense did Jesus have against them? Among other things, I think the wild beasts were the exact same enemies that the Desert Fathers and Mothers encountered, in the Egyptian wilderness, just a few centuries after Jesus. I think we can see the wild beasts as things like pride, shame, greed, anxiety and plain old boredom. In other words, common human emotions that slowly eat away at the soul and cause spiritual despair. The wild beasts are demons we’re all familiar with, demons that we can’t simply run away from and leave behind, because we carry them deep within us. 

It shouldn't be too hard to see where I’m going here. The forty days of Lent, which Christians have observed since the Church’s earliest days, are a deliberate attempt to experience something like what Jesus himself went through in the wilderness. It’s a season in which we bravely move out of our comfort zones, challenging ourselves to explore psychological, emotional and spiritual territory we would usually rather avoid. It’s a time for us to confront the wild beasts that live within us, aspects of ourselves that we’re afraid of, ashamed of—or both. And in doing so we get to practice underestimated virtues like patience and humility; we learn who we really are, not just by being totally honest with ourselves, but by seeing how we respond to the truths we discover. Above all, in these moments of unusual vulnerability, we remember how deeply we depend on God’s love.

This important and rewarding part of Christian life is not easy, but we never have to face it alone. Just as Jesus had the angels to minister to him, we too have our own angels, whether we recognize them or not. We also know the Holy Spirit is always present, to guide and sustain us. In fact, Mark, Matthew and Luke all tell us that it’s the Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness in the first place. Now why would the Spirit of God send someone into danger? How are we supposed to understand that?

There’s a line in the Lord’s Prayer, which we usually don’t give a second thought to: Lead us not into temptation. The phrase should give us pause, though, since, according to the Gospels, that's exactly what the Spirit did to Jesus. This translation made Pope Francis so uncomfortable that a few years ago he authorized an alternative: do not let us fall into temptation. That’s maybe slightly better, but I prefer the language of our Rite II Lord’s Prayer, which is: save us from the time of trial. In other words, we’re not asking God to spare us from challenging times; because, first of all, we know that in this life, we’ll all spend some time in the wilderness. More importantly, we know that those experiences are both valuable and necessary to our growth as people, and as Christians.

The Spirit is always pushing us to embrace the challenge of being fully human, as Christ was fully human, even when that journey leads to the cross. And so what we’re asking of God is to give us the strength and courage to move through those difficult seasons, when we’re tempted to be less than we can be. In the struggle against our wild beasts, we’re asking for the Father’s saving help. We’re putting our trust and hope in the love of God, which is always with us—even when we want to run away from it.

The Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, Chappaqua, NY
The First Sunday in Lent
February 18th, 2024